


Automaton Heart

by smallestsenpai



Category: SPY x FAMILY (Manga)
Genre: Action, Action & Romance, Alternate Universe - High School, Eden Academy (SPY x FAMILY), Espionage, F/M, Mystery, Self-Discovery, Swearing, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-18 00:41:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28983552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smallestsenpai/pseuds/smallestsenpai
Summary: Westalis and Ostania. While a shaky truce has brought peace to the two nations, tensions remain high as war looms on the horizon, and espionage a vital tool for remaining one step ahead of one’s opponent. But even intelligence work has its limits. When word reaches the West of potential counterintelligence meetings from their neighbors to the East at a prestigious academy, there is but one agent fit for the job. Enter: Twilight.A promising but still inexperienced agent, will he have what it takes to blend in with the children of society’s upper crust and uncover the academy’s secrets, or will he fold under the pressure and reignite the flames of war?
Relationships: Loid Forger | Twilight/Yor Briar Forger | Thorn Princess
Comments: 18
Kudos: 41





	1. I. Assignment

**Author's Note:**

> Heeheehoo, this is my first serious attempt at a multi-chapter fic. It's a little nerve-wracking to say the least, but I'll give it my best shot and I hope you'll enjoy the ride! 
> 
> Special shoutout to Lacrow for beta-reading the first chapter, and for the members of the Operation Strix server for creating some of the wonderful original characters that'll make an appearance in this fic!

It is a crisp December evening in Hamburgh as he watches an inebriated couple stumble out the main entrance of a local tavern before disappearing into the nearby alleyway. Though the sun had set long ago, the streets are still filled with the sounds of life unique to the city’s nightlife district. Even nestled away in the back alleys, it is hard to ignore the chatter of passersby and the rumble of cars on the street. It not only serves as the perfect backdrop for the city’s energetic nighttime venues, but also as the perfect cover for the immoral activities lurking in the city’s shadows.

The man’s eyes shift towards the alleyway momentarily, the ruffling of clothing and muffled giggling the only clue he needs to know what those two are getting up to at that moment. He turns his attention back to the entrance of the alley, arms crossed over his chest as he leans against the brick wall. Aside from the dim bulb illuminating the entrance, the alleyway sits in darkness, its abrupt turns and dead ends a mystery to all, save for those that know them. It is the perfect rendezvous for meetings not suitable for the light of day, information and secrets confined by the boundaries of the borough’s underbelly.

Which is what’s brought him here tonight.

A bell tolls in the distance. A check of his watch confirms the time: midnight.

“Good evening, Minister Gardner.” He says with a tip of his hat.

He doesn’t have to look up from his watch to know it’s him, having already deduced as much from his footfalls down the alleyway.

William Gardner. Minister of Health. Tasked with overseeing public health efforts and policies regarding Ostania’s health care system. A father of two, he’s a well respected political figure, liked by both supporters and opponents alike for his stances on issues regarding the country’s most vulnerable patient populations.

“You’re early for once.” Minister Gardner huffs, flanked by two security personnel on either side.

“Best not to keep you waiting. You’re a busy man, minister. I’m sure you have other matters to attend to.” He replies, pushing himself off the wall and turning to face him.

“Then I presume you have what I want.” Gardner states.

Without a word, the man retrieves the manila folder tucked safely inside his trench coat, holding it up for him to see, but not touch.

“Local drug ring’s suppliers.” He says simply, “Anything and everything you need to know, along with how to contact them.” It’s a treasure trove of knowledge containing more than enough information to land these individuals behind bars for the rest of their lives, maybe even more. In the right hands, a valuable resource that will undoubtedly bolster public health efforts while striking a fatal blow to those that seek to bring harm to the community.

In the wrong hands, however, it is anything but.

“I showed you mine, now show me yours.” He states.

A ghost of a wicked grin barely materializes onto Gardner’s lips before it’s quickly replaced by his previous scowl. With a quick motion of his hand, one of the security details steps forward, handing him a similar manila folder before returning to his previous position.

“Every hospital in Hamburgh, including those located outside the city, with affiliated drug rehabilitation programs. Program details including location, time, and members, as well as their medical histories regarding drug abuse.” Gardner recites, “If your men are smart enough, they’ll know to go towards the end of the month. Everyone’s itching to spend once payday rolls around.”

“I’ll be sure to let them know.” He responds.

Folders in hand, the two step towards each other under the watchful eye of the security personnel. The swap is instantaneous, folders passed wordlessly between the two. The exchange complete, he backs away from the minister. Tipping his hat once more before bidding him farewell, he turns on his heel to descend further into the alleyway’s sprawling network system.

Tucking the folder into the innermost pocket of his coat, he lowers his head. The couple previously occupying the alley corner had finally disappeared, most likely realizing a back alley wasn’t the best (or most comfortable) place to continue with their nightly romp. Where they ran off to, however, was anyone’s guess.

His train of thought is interrupted before he’s able to ponder the situation any longer. The back entrance to the tavern opens abruptly, followed by a man drunkenly descending the steps, clinging to the railing for stability. Using the rail, he swings himself forward, clipping the other individual roughly. He stops, turning around, narrowly avoiding falling over in the process.

“Hey! Buddy!” He barks at the man, “Watch where you’re going!”

When the other individual doesn’t respond he curses under his breath. Inhaling sharply, he turns around once more, wobbling in the direction the other man had just come from. He squints momentarily before grinning, waving an arm haphazardly as he approaches the figures standing at the other end of the path.

“Minister Gardner!” He slurs, bracing himself against the brick wall, “Shorry ‘bout the wait! The bartender wash really slingin’ them drinks tonight! That gal serves a mighty stiff drink y’know!”

The minister’s eyes widen, darting between the inebriated man before him and the alleyway behind him. The more he analyzes the scene, the more he begins to understand what’s unfolding before him, and the more his blood runs cold.

“Lukas,” He starts, fighting his drying lips and quickening heart rate, “weren’t you, weren’t you just-”

“At the bar, yeah!” Lukas nods in no particular direction, “Wash tellin’ ya ‘bout the pretty gal and her drinks! Don’t know what the lasshy putsh in ‘em, but they’re worth the wait I tell y-”

He’s cut off abruptly, words replaced by incoherent shrieking as a single bullet tears through his leg, his body folding in on itself as he collapses on the floor. He tries to pull himself up, only to be forced back down by the weight of a guard, knee firmly pressed into his back as his hands are restrained behind him.

“What the fuck man?!” He howls, struggling in vain against the weight, chest heaving as he fights to get air into and out of his lungs properly.

“I should’ve known the minute you were early something was off.” Gardner mutters, returning the pistol to the security detail standing beside him.

“The fuck you goin’ on about ya geezer!” Lukas grunts, “I wash in the bar the whole time! The fuck you mean I wash early-”

“Don’t you understand you goddamn _moron_ _?”_ Gardner hisses, “We were _set up!”_

“And you,” He spits, whipping around to face the remaining guard, “what are you waiting for? An _invitation_ or something? Find that bastard!”

As he watches his security detail sprint towards the darkness that awaited him, Minister Gardner already knew the outcome that would await him. Countless years of training couldn’t prepare anyone for the redlight district’s disorienting backstreets. Even if he did overcome the maze of dead ends and looping passes waiting for him, _who_ , or _what_ , was he even looking for? The man they wanted was right where they wanted him: wounded and pinned under the minister’s watchful gaze. Who had he even _sent_ him after? He didn’t even know the answer anymore.

It might as well have been a ghost.

While the guard struggles to navigate the labyrinth, his ghostly target resurfaces on the other side. He crosses the street casually, disregarding the intoxicated individuals still roaming about and the scantily-clad women beckoning to him from behind their windowed storefronts. He stops beside a parked car, a two-tone, black and beige 311 Wartburg Coupé, engine idling beside the sidewalk. Gloved fingers wrap around the passenger-side handle and pull, allowing him to slip into the vehicle with little effort. As the door shuts and locks beside him, the engine roars to life. They were on the road faster than the amount of time it’d taken him to cross it.

“That was sooner than expected.” The driver speaks up, casting a sideways glance at the other man.

“I took my time.” The passenger reassures him.

“Didn’t even bother checking out the scenery?” The other grins.

He rolls his eyes, an exasperated sigh escaping his lips as his hand rises towards his face.

“Just because I could,” He starts, “doesn’t mean I should.”

With one swift motion, the man seemingly transforms in place. Weathered lines give way to a youthful complexion, a clean-shaven face replacing the beard that had sat on his face only moments before. Even the brown, slicked back locks sitting beneath his hat peeled away to reveal a mess of blond, unkempt hair. To the untrained eye, it was as if an entirely new individual had manifested out of thin air, replacing the previous passenger that had boarded the vehicle. His piercing blue eyes the only feature that had gone unchanged, the only hint another individual had ever sat in his place.

“Too good for the redlight district, Twilight?”

“Try too _young_ , Midnight.” He corrects the older man, retrieving a pre-prepared moist towelette from the glove box and roughly dragging it across his face, removing the residue left behind by the facial prostheses.

Midnight chuckles, shaking his head lightly. Donning an indigo blue, three-piece suit and black tie, he very much fits the bill of a man meant to blend in with the cover of darkness. His youthful complexion contrasted by harsh lines and fledging gray hairs peeking out from beneath the dark brown hair and stubble that frames his face. Azure eyes behind a pair of spectacles alternate between watching the road ahead of them and monitoring their surroundings.

“I take it you had no issues then?” Midnight questions, merging onto the highway.

The younger agent shakes his head, retrieving the manila folder from his person.

“Documents signed by Minister Gardner regarding hospital drug rehabilitation programs and their members.” He pauses momentarily, unfastening his watch and pulling it off his wrist. The wires and recorder strapped to his forearm followed shortly after. “As well as audio recording for confirmation of his involvement. Coupled with the intel we retrieved from the pharmaceutical company, this should be more than enough to prove he’s working with them under the table to increase their profits and line his own pockets at the same time.”

“Atta boy!” Midnight beams, one hand reaching over to ruffle the boy’s already messy hair.

“Could you knock that off? I’m not a child you know.” Twilight groans, swatting his chuckling mentor’s hand away, “What safe house are we heading to anyway?” Though Westalian Intelligence is not one to spare expenses, their safe houses littered across both Westalis and Ostania were often hit or miss. In this case, he hoped for the former, or at the very least, some place with hot water and a bed that wouldn’t leave him sore the following morning.

“Berlint.”

“Berlint?” He echoes, “What for? There’s safe houses just a few miles outside the city-”

“We’re not heading to a safe house, Twilight,” Midnight hums, “we’re heading to WISE’s Berlint branch.” Even with his eyes trained on the road, he could feel the other’s questioning gaze on him. “She’s got another mission for you.”

“Of course, I should’ve known.” He moans. There’s no end to the barrage of missions he’s tasked with, oftentimes simultaneously. It makes sense, considering they seem to be perpetually short-staffed, but at this point he felt more workhorse than human. “Do you have any idea what it entails? The mission?” He asks.

“I do, but I think it’d be best to hear it from her first.” Midnight smiles, “She’s your handler, you know.” Hearing his passenger sigh audibly, an amused huff escapes his lips. “You’re not doing a very good job of convincing me you’re not a child anymore.” He remarks.

“Well in that case, you won’t mind if I close my eyes until we get there.” Twilight replies, resting his head against the window. Though this mission had been substantially shorter than the last, the knowledge he’d already be shipped out elsewhere in a day’s time was enough to remind him of the exhaustion his body had been fighting off. Even now it became difficult to keep his eyes open, the low rumble of the engine on the open road a welcomed melody compared to the cacophony of sounds that had characterized the redlight district.

Midnight smiles softly, sneaking a glance at the other.

“I wouldn’t mind it at all.”

* * *

By the time Twilight stirs from his slumber, they had already arrived at their destination. A nondescript building located in Ostania’s capital city of Berlint, it is difficult to believe it serves as the regional branch for Westalian Intelligence agents deployed to the region. Hiding in plain sight, it serves as WISE’s lifeline, working to maintain the fragile peace between the two countries using any means available to them. Night or day, rain or shine, their mission stopped for nothing or no one, and neither did he, apparently.

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he tucks the folder and recorder back into the safety of his coat before exiting the car. The fluorescent lights buzzing overhead the only lighting afforded to them in the building’s basement.

“Sleep well?” Midnight grins, pushing himself off the side of the Wartburg, which teeters in response to the shift in weight.

“I slept, that’s what matters.” He replies idly, eyes shifting between his mentor and the car, “It’s a miracle you manage to fit into one of those.”

The older agent’s laugh reverberates off the concrete walls as he rounds the front of the car and pats the other squarely on his back, nearly toppling him over. “A great question indeed boy.” He muses, “How about we ask her that as well, hm?”

If Twilight opposed his mentor’s suggestion, he made no effort to show it. Instead, he follows him towards the entrance at the other end of the garage, allowing the strong hand resting between his shoulder blades to guide him. A long hallway awaited them behind the door whose creaks echoed throughout the relatively empty basement. Walking alongside him, Twilight peers into the various rooms that splinter off from the main hall, primarily the private offices of agents and informants stationed in the area. Though many rooms sit empty, many others are still occupied even at this time of night with individuals hunched over growing piles of paperwork. A few unfortunate souls had even lost the battle against their work, reclining in their seats or resting their heads on their desks fast asleep. Twilight couldn’t particularly blame them.

Midnight steps ahead of him as they reach their destination at the end of the hall. Opening the door, he allows his mentee to step inside the office ahead of him, closing the door behind them.

“Apologies for the delay, Sylvia.” Midnight greets, “Junior here was catching up on his beauty sleep on the ride over.”

“You were the one driving, don’t peg this on me.” He counters.

She glanced up from the report in her hands, a polite smile gracing her lips.

“It’s always a pleasure to see you two, Midnight, Twilight.” She greets them warmly in return, placing the report back on her desk as she turns to face them, “Please, take a seat.” She gestures to the seats in front of her. Nodding in acknowledgement, Twilight sits before her, his mentor opting to stand beside her.

“How was Hamburgh?” She asks simply, crossing her legs and leaning forward as she rests her folded hands on the desk.

“Raunchy.” Twilight replies curtly, placing the folder and recorder on the desk.

“So I’ve been told,” Came her response as she slid the intel to the side, “excellent job as always, Twilight.”

“Midnight told me you had another mission for me, Handler.” He says, glancing at his mentor. Beating around the bush had never been something he enjoyed, and the lack of sleep was only serving to further annoy him. A cold shower and rock-hard bed would even be welcomed sights at this point.

“Impatient as ever I see.” Handler chuckles, expert fingers retrieving a folder wedged within the stack on her desk and sliding it towards him, “Does the name ‘Eden Academy’ ring a bell to you?”

Eyebrows furrowing together, he grabs the folder, “Can’t say that it does, no.”

Having only recently been transferred to Ostania, he only knew the areas worth remembering: his immediate surroundings and the safe houses closest to them. The folder before him was virtually indistinguishable from the clutter of others on her desk, save for the words **_OPERATION TALOS_ ** stamped across the front in bold lettering. Inside, a wide array of documents and photos so extensive it was a miracle they’d managed to fit inside the flimsy thing to begin with. Photos of historic, picturesque buildings sat atop the pile, though none in particular seemed to ring a bell.

“A prestigious private academy located in Berlint, it’s known for its rigorous top tier curriculum and, consequently, student body comprised of elite students from notable pedigrees.” She states, adjusting the frame of her glasses to sit perfectly in place, “Starting in January, it’ll also be the location of your next mission.”

“A private school.” He notes, fighting a grimace, “What business do we possibly have in a private school?”

“We have reason to believe that the school is being used as a cover for strategic meetings regarding potential espionage tactics to employ against Westalis.” Handler explains, “For the past few months, we’ve been picking up increased radio signals from the area. They’re indecipherable, perhaps coded. That alone is reason enough to raise suspicions.”

“Seems suspicious enough alright.” He hums in agreement, “Any possible leads?”

“Just one for the time being.” She leans back in her seat, “Demetrius Desmond, eldest son of Donovan Desmond.”

“Of the National Unity Party?”

“The very same.”

“So what, I’ll be infiltrating the school to monitor him?” Twilight questions.

“If the solution had been that simple, don’t you think I would’ve sent someone by now?” She questions in return, “Attended by the children of influential politicians and world leaders, its security is second to none. A single misstep, and the State Security Service would be all over you in minutes, and interrogating you in less time than that. That is, if they _choose_ to interrogate you.” She didn’t need to state what the other option was for him to understand.

“Fair enough,” He reasons, reviewing the photos in hand, “but if simple infiltration won’t work, then what’s our strategy?”

“Oh, it’s quite simple really.” She smiles, sliding another folder across the desk.

His eyes shift between her and the folder, one hand returning the photos to their proper place while the other retrieves the new folder. Just like the other one, it too was seemingly jam-packed with documents upon documents, though their subject matter ranged from calculus and biology to literature and-

The pieces that’d been scattered before him click into place. She must’ve sensed it as well, her smile only growing bigger in response.

“You’re kidding.”

“Oh, but I’m not.” She replies, “You’ll be sitting for the entrance exam at the end of the month. The semester begins in early January, and you’ll be graduating in May.”

“This is ridiculous,” Twilight had never been one to talk back to her, but the more she spoke, the more insane the mission seemed, “a student transferring in for their final semester is too suspicious. Besides,” he pauses, retrieving a document from the other folder, “it says here students often enroll in the first grade and remain with the same cohort until their senior year. How could I possibly sit for an exam for a full class?”

“An excellent question. It just so happens you’re in luck.” She motions to another document in the folder, which he readily picks up, “A student was expelled last semester for being in possession of the final exam answer sheet. An Imperial Scholar at that. What a shame really, but his expulsion means an empty seat. A loss for him, a win for us.” He studies the portrait of the boy in question. The words ‘BENEDICT MULLER’ are stamped underneath the image. Unruly strawberry blonde locks and brown eyes, freckles scattered across his cheeks. His expression one of embarrassment and anger. Not exactly the face of a cheater, Twilight thought, but looks can be deceiving. 

“Luck aside,” He starts, grasping another file, “it states here both parents must be present for a student to enroll.” The loophole he’d been looking for. “How are you going to deal with that?” Not like they could possibly hire individuals to play the role of his parents, not when every other agent was already juggling more missions that humanly possible.

“That’s already been taken care of.”

“Alright, then where are my parents?”

“Why, you’re looking at them, Twilight.”

He blinks.

“You’re joking. You’ve _got_ to be joking.” He stares at the duo before him, eyes shifting towards his mentor almost immediately, “You knew about this, didn’t you?”

Midnight chuckles in response, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “Perhaps,” He laughs, “but your _mother_ promised me not to divulge any mission details prior to her debriefing with you.”

“No, no do not call her _that_ .” Twilight rises from his seat, “Handler is _not_ my mother. She can’t be my mother, she’s much too-” He glances at the woman before him. Though her smile never faltered, he could sense the menacing shift in her demeanor all the same: _choose your next words carefully_.

“She’s much too young.” He concludes.

“Oh, Twilight, ever the charmer, aren’t you?” Handler chuckles softly, “Rest assured, I’m more than qualified to fill the role.”

“And you,” He turns his attention back to Midnight, “aren’t you too old to be playing pretend?”

“I’ll have you know it’s not unheard of for men to begin graying early.” Midnight scoffs, “Besides, we can just say you’ve got your mother’s looks and my intelligence.”

Handler coughs into her closed fist.

“My looks and your mother’s intelligence, is what I meant.” He corrects himself quickly.

“What he’s trying to say,” She starts, “is that this will allow us to monitor the mission progress more closely, and allow us to be more accessible to you should you ever need the assistance.”

Twilight’s gaze alternates between the pair before him. Despite his best efforts, every loophole that came to mind seemed to be shot down before he could even give them much thought. Not that he had a choice to begin with; a mission is a mission is a mission. Even one that involves attending school, regardless of how much he might protest against it.

“What safe house will I be staying tonight.” He asks.

“You two can rest upstairs for the night.” Handler smiles, “Some of the offices are unoccupied, and there should be some spare pillows and blankets lying around in a storage closet somewhere.”

He nods his head idly, turning towards the office door. A couch and some pillows didn’t sound half bad anymore. “Goodnight then.” He says simply, waving backwards towards them before exiting the office, admitting defeat as exhaustion catches up with him once more. If he was going to be cramming for a test, best to get some sleep in now before it’s too late, he reasons. That, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could’ve stomached staring at the two in front of him now that the association of _mother_ and _father_ wouldn’t leave his mind.

It was going to be a long, rough few months ahead.


	2. II. Introductions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, I did not forget about this fic, I just learned during Fluffbruary that I am not the best at multitasking when it comes to writing fics xD That's what I get for posting right before Fluffbruary I guess, but hopefully this chapter makes up for the long wait(?) Either way, hope you enjoy! :')

Frigid December nights gave way to cool January skies, and before he knew it, Twilight’s entrance exam had come and gone. In the end, it had been a relatively lackluster affair; days spent cooped up in WISE’s Berlint Branch, pouring over reference books and copies of the exam answers their informants had secured for him beforehand. Memorization was nothing but child’s play to him at this point, but that didn’t make learning months worth of academic material any easier for him per se. Still, he passed with flying colors, as was expected of him, beating out the countless other applicants that had clamored for a chance to enroll at Eden Academy if only for a semester. If supposed peace between two countries didn’t ride on his shoulders, he may have even felt bad for them. May.

The entrance exam had gotten his foot in the door, but it was their stellar performance at the faculty interview that had effectively sealed the deal. So much so, Professor Henderson, both his housemaster and professor for the upcoming semester, had even offered to let them tour the school grounds once more prior to the start of his classes.

Passing underneath the entrance archway that officially marks the boundary of the academy, Twilight walked in front of his “parents,” gaze focused ahead of them as the duo flanking him surveyed their surroundings. Though it was evident several faculty members watched them curiously from the buildings surrounding them, the atmosphere was markedly different than the day of the faculty interview. They couldn’t let their guard down, but at the very least, they could breathe a little easier.

“If you recall from your visit for the faculty interview,” Professor Henderson starts, gesturing out before him, “this is the statue of our founding headmaster. Sitting at the center of our main courtyard, it is a rather eye-catching and iconic landmark on campus.”

In unison, the family of three briefly pause, bringing their right hands to rest over their hearts to salute the figure before them. Henderson blinks, a brief smile tugging at his lips before continuing with the tour.

“If I remember correctly from your application, you were studying abroad prior to applying to Eden. Is that correct, Mr. Forger?” The professor questions, turning his attention towards Twilight.

“Yes, that’s correct, sir.” He nods politely, “Mother and father are often traveling for business and, rather than leave me behind, have always opted to bring me along so I may experience the world alongside my studies.” He couldn’t have recited the script more perfectly if he’d tried.

“Quite exciting.” Henderson hums, “If I remember correctly, the two of you work in unison, Mr. and Mrs. Forger?”

“That’s correct.” Midnight, or the elder Mr. Forger, replies, “I am a tailor, and my wife is a cosmetologist. Our clientele is rather broad and diverse, so we’re often traveling between cities and countries for appointments. We couldn’t bear to leave our son behind, so it only felt natural that he traveled with us. Isn’t that right, dear?”

“Oh yes,” Handler, or Mrs. Forger, chimes in, “I couldn’t bear to be away from him for too long, especially when he was so little! Once it was feasible for him to comfortably travel long distances he was always right there besides us.”

“A mother’s love is unwavering indeed.” Henderson smiles at her, “Although, I imagine it must have been difficult juggling the expectations of your professions, rearing your child, and educating him at the same time.”

“Oh my, not at all!” Mrs. Forger gasps, gloved hand lightly resting against her cheek, “Some days were more exhausting than others, but nothing was ever too difficult when it came to our son. Thankfully, his education was handled primarily by private tutors and instructors, but the two of us always made time to spend with him as well. A child’s first teachers are their parents after all.”

“Of course, of course.” The housemaster agrees, “Seeing as though your lines of work heavily involve globetrotting, your clientele are rather aristocratic I take it?”

“Not necessarily.” Mr. Forger interjects, “Our work is evenly split between private clientele and several nonprofit organizations. While a sizable portion of our clientele are indeed rather high-class, we try to offer a variety of services that are accessible to all individuals regardless of socioeconomic status, including the less fortunate. One can’t put a price on elegance, at least, that’s always been our philosophy.”

Henderson stills momentarily, eyes widening in regards to the other’s response. If the family notices his reaction, however, they make no mention of it. A subtle sense of pride washes over him if only for a second. The Forgers may have gained access to Eden Academy through their and their son’s hard work, but he couldn’t help but feel a little satisfied knowing such excellence would be joining their ranks.

Twilight, henceforth dubbed Loid Forger, on the other hand, felt as though he were being subjected to a form of psychological torture constructed solely for him. Nevermind the fact he’d already heard these spiels countless times beforehand, watching his handler and mentor cling to each other like lovebirds was slowly but surely driving him up a wall.

_ “What are those?” Twilight asked, shutting the office door behind him. Any break from studying the exam answer sheets they’d procured for him was a welcome one, but upon walking through the door he was starting to reconsider that line of thinking. _

_ “Oh, Twilight, welcome. You’re just in time too, we were about to begin reviewing our covers.” Handler greeted him. _

_ “You called me down here.” He pointed out, “I repeat, what are those? And why is Midnight like...that.” _

_ “Oh, this?” She held up her right hand, palm facing towards her, “My wedding band of course. Midnight has one as well.” _

_ The older agent held up his right hand as evidence to support her statement. _

_ “Right, and why is he...kneeling on the floor?” _

_ “He’s proposing to me of course.” _

_ It took every ounce of sanity Twilight had left in his body to keep from grimacing at the two before him. “Is that really necessary.” He sighed, sitting at the seat before her desk. _

_ “Ever heard of method acting, Twilight?” Midnight chuckled as he rose from the floor, sitting beside his mentee, “You can’t expect to fool those around you unless your very actions convey who you are.” _

_ “Not to mention, these aren’t real.” Handler wiggled her ring finger, “The wardrobe department was kind enough to lend us these for the time being. Rather convincing, aren’t they?” She smiled, resting her chin on the palm of her hand, the band glimmering in the light. _

_ “Anyway,” Twilight didn’t know how much more of this he could physically handle, “our covers. You wanted to review them together to make sure we were in accordance with them, correct?” _

_ “Correct. Here’s yours.” She slid the document towards him, “Be sure to keep this in the folder with the other mission documents.” As he grabbed the file off the desk, Midnight retrieved a similar one from his briefcase. _

_ He studied the document carefully. With the exam fast-approaching, it was time to begin shifting gears and readying himself for the next phase of the mission: class. Though most missions had entailed some degree of a cover story, as the lengthiest mission he’d gone on to date, it was imperative he knew his story like the back of his hand. The words ‘LOID FORGER’ are stamped above his identification photo, his hair styled backwards away from his face. According to his file, he’d spent the majority of his life thus far traveling the world, studying alongside the best private tutors and instructors money could buy. His goal: to graduate from Eden Academy with recommendations to pursue a career as a psychiatrist. _

_ “Psychiatrist, really.” He commented. _

_ “Will that be a problem?” She quirked an eyebrow. _

_ “Not particularly.” He shrugged, gaze flickering between his newfound parental figures, “What about you two?” _

_ “Edward Forger, tailor,” Midnight introduced himself before gesturing towards Handler, “and this is my wife, Sylvia Forger, cosmetologist extraordinaire.” She smiled politely, tipping the brim of her hat slightly, “Nice to meet you.” _

_ “Are these covers enough to blend in at this academy?” He questioned, “Aren’t my classmates the children of politicians and industry empires?” _

_ “Just because the school houses the children of the elite does not mean it exclusively caters to them.” Handler replied, “Besides, you’ll learn soon enough that prestige cannot solve all of one’s problems, nor should it completely define one’s character. Those who don’t understand that lesson won’t get anywhere in the world on just name alone, and those that do will be the ones you’ll want to find.” _

“Now over here is our— ah, exceptional timing indeed. Mr. Forger?”

“Yes, sir?” Loid responds, pulled from his thoughts as his attention shifts towards his housemaster.

“There are still some matters I wish to discuss with your parents privately, but I would rather not cut your tour short.” He explains, “Seeing as though morning classes will be starting soon, I shall be entrusting you into the care of one of your classmates. Is that quite alright with you?”

“Of course, sir.”

“Excellent.” Henderson nods, offering the boy a polite smile before facing forward once more. “Miss Briar, Miss Briar!” He calls out, waving towards a figure up ahead, “Miss Briar, a moment of your time please.”

Loid follows the gentleman’s gaze, settling on the individual in question, conversing with what appears to be another instructor underneath an archway. She glances towards the professor momentarily, excusing herself from the current conversation before turning her attention towards the four of them, piercing scarlet gaze locking onto Henderson almost immediately. Donning the traditional academy uniform, she starts towards them, hands folded in front of her as she crosses the courtyard, hair tucked into a bun neatly beneath her beret save for the strands poking out beneath the brim and those resting against her chest.

It only takes a moment for him to recall the information he’d gathered from the document Handler had supplied him with concerning his future classmates. Yor Briar. Eldest daughter of Yasmin and Yohann Briar, lieutenant colonel and colonel within the State Security Service respectively. High ranking SSS officers, their private lives are kept largely out of the public eye, though that does not make the Briar name any less feared in intelligence circles both regionally and internationally. A model student with above average grades, Yor is a well-known individual within the academy thanks to her parents’ infamous reputations. Professors view her as a pleasure to have in class, though the student body’s general perception of her is one of both admiration and fear. Her younger brother, Yuri, also attends Eden Academy. A fifth grader who, judging by his classroom performance, could potentially surpass his sister in academic prowess and become an Imperial Scholar in due time.

“Miss Briar, this is Mr. Forger.” Professor Henderson states, motioning towards Loid, “I’d like to privately discuss some matters with his guardians. As classes shall be commencing soon, would it be possible for you to escort Mr. Forger around the school grounds? We shall reconvene at our homeroom.”

“Yes, sir.” Yor answers. Her gaze snaps from Henderson to Loid with such intensity he would’ve flinched had he not previously found himself in situations worse than this. “Follow me please.” She says simply, turning on her heel. He follows, looking back to wave goodbye to his parents before falling in line beside her. She walks besides him silently, gaze fixed in front of her as they come upon imposing mahogany doors. Opening one with ease, she props it against the wall, leaning against it to keep it open.

Long tables and benches are arranged uniformly throughout the length of the hall with lantern centerpieces illuminating the wooden tabletops. The towering walls of the hall are adorned by various lanterns and portraits of scenes of the academy throughout its history. Grand windows allow light to filter into the room, bathing the hall in the early morning light while a magnificent chandelier hangs from the center of the high ceiling.

“This is our Dining Hall.” She states, “Three meals are prepared each day by a dedicated team of personal chefs, along with snacks and refreshments for after school activities. The menu for the week is posted outside the hall every Monday morning.”

He nods, surveying the area. Though it’s still early, students dot the tables, enjoying their breakfasts and attempting to shake the sleep from their bodies before classes commence, with some even agonizing over their notes already. “Rather busy.” He notes, glancing at her.

She nods before turning to leave, “It’s not uncommon to find the dormitory students here before class; most students that commute often wait in their classrooms instead.”

Loid follows her back out into the courtyard, now more populated with students than before as the scheduled start of the day draws closer. He watches as several of the students scattered around the grounds stop and look up from where they are, their stares trained on Yor. If she notices their stares, she makes no effort to show it, continuing forward seemingly unbothered.

As the clock inches closer towards the start of class, the duo cover more ground than he thought possible. From the dining hall to the libraries and everything in between, they see it all and then some, all the while curious stares follow their every move. It’s unsettling to say the least, but considering the student body and the individuals that comprise it, it's not that strange to be a little starstruck now and then, he reasons. Or unnerved by the sight of a new student from an unrecognizable family, but he chooses not to focus on that option for good reason.

“What’s over there?” Loid questions, motioning towards the hall she skipped over.

“The Imperial Scholar Hall.” Yor answers.

“They get a whole wing of the building to themselves?”

“The Imperial Scholars are usually pursuing their own interests outside of class time in projects on behalf of the academy.” She explains, “It’s a centralized area that allows them to concentrate their resources and pursue both group and individual projects on their own time. Only the scholars and authorized faculty and staff are permitted to enter to ensure their work remains undisturbed.”

He hums in acknowledgement, eyes lingering on the double doors before following her.

Yor finally stops besides another door before turning to face him. “This is our homeroom.” She says, “Professor Henderson will probably want to introduce you to the class, so it’d be best if you wait out here until he arrives.”

“Of course.” He nods, “Thank you again for the tour, Miss Briar, I hope it wasn’t too much trouble for you.”

Yor blinks, eyes widening in surprise.

“Oh I…” She starts, gaze shooting to the floor, “I didn’t introduce myself, did I?”

“You didn’t.” He confirms, though it wasn’t like he needed one anyway.

“I apologize.” She replies, hands clasped against her chest, “I was so preoccupied with the time, it must’ve slipped my mind.” She looks back up at him, though her gaze is nowhere near as intense as it was previously, “My name is Yor Briar. You are…?”

Now it’s Loid’s turn to stare. He might not have needed an introduction, but that doesn’t mean  _ she  _ didn’t need one either.

“Right,” He starts, “I’m Loid, Loid Forger. Nice to meet you, Yor.”

“Nice to meet you too, Loid.” She responds, “I’ll see you in class.”

And with that, she disappears behind the door, leaving him alone in the hall.

Thankfully, however, he doesn’t have to wait long for the housemaster to appear. “Ah, Mr. Forger, right on time.” Henderson says, “Did you enjoy your tour of the academy with Miss Briar?”

“Yes, sir.” Loid nods, “She was a wonderful guide. Very informative.”

“Glad to hear it.” He smiles, “I shall introduce you to the class first, and then you may enter to introduce yourself. I’ll only be a minute.”

Loid watches as he disappears behind the door as well, his muffled voice from the other side of the door quieting the chatter of students waiting for class to begin. He waits patiently, only catching bits and pieces of the professor’s introduction before the door opens once again.

“Right this way, Mr. Forger.” Henderson instructs.

Intelligence agents should always strive to avoid being the center of attention, but that is often easier said than done, especially in situations such as this. Stepping into the classroom, Loid is greeted by several pairs of eyes watching him expectantly. No doubt a transfer student this late into the year is cause for a stir, even more so when the student’s background is practically unknown. For one used to working in the shadows, he’d be lying if it said it wasn’t a little perturbing. Nonetheless, he stands besides Professor Henderson at the front of the class and clears his throat.

“Hello everyone.” He greets, “I’m Loid Forger, but please just call me Loid. I look forward to studying with you all.”

“Thank you, Mr. Forger.” Henderson smiles, “If you will, please take a seat besides Mr. Desmond right over there.” He motions towards the back of the classroom.

Loid nods, stepping down from the raised instructor platform and ignoring the stares boring into him as he walks towards his assigned seat. Wordlessly, he slips into his seat and begins retrieving his books from his bag. Sitting up straight once more, he glances towards the male seated beside him, only to find his gaze fixed on him already.

“Yes?” Loid asks, arranging his supplies on his desk.

“Professor Henderson says your father’s a tailor and your mother’s a cosmetologist?”

“That is correct.”

The boy scoffs.

“I feel sorry for you then.” He smirks, “They must be utter fools if they think their low-class child is cut out for Eden Academy of all places.”

“My father and mother know what they’re doing. Class isn’t something that can be bought with money after all.” Loid responds, opening his notebook. At the very least, Midnight and Handler could take solace in the fact he’d bitten his tongue and refrained from saying something much worse. Though if he was being honest, he had a feeling things had turned sour long before he had even opened his mouth.

“Are you kidding me?”

The pair stop, shifting their attention to the desks in front of them.

“It’s the first day back and you’re  _ already  _ bothering the new kid?” The girl hisses, “We  _ talked  _ about this didn’t we? It’s not a good look you know,  _ Demy  _ .”

“My name is  _ Demetrius  _ , Beatrice,  _ Demetrius  _ ,” He grits through clenched teeth, “and stop lecturing me, you’re not my  _ mother,  _ you know.”

Beatrice huffs, spinning around in her seat to face Loid directly, resting her elbows on his desk and her chin in the palms of her hands. “Please excuse Demy, he’s a little  _ prickly  _ around the edges, but I promise he’s not all that bad.” She reassures him, “His bark is  _ much  _ worse than his bite, believe me.”

“Thank you?” Loid responds, ignoring the fuming student besides him.

“Any time!” She beams, “Your name’s Loid, right? I’m Beatrice, Beatrice Blackbell, pleasure to meet you! Oh, but please call me Bea, Beatrice is just so...uptight, y’know?”

“Pleasure’s all mine…Bea.” He nods, still processing her interjection into their conversation.

Demetrius Desmond. The target of Operation Talos. Eldest son of Donovan Desmond, President of the National Unity Party, currently the biggest threat to the unstable peace that exists between Westalis and Ostania. An Imperial Scholar, he’s had a distinguished academic record since his enrollment in Eden Academy. Though little is known about Donovan himself, Demetrius appears to take after him to a certain degree, studying politics in hopes of succeeding his father in the future. His younger brother, Damian Desmond, has recently been enrolled in Eden Academy. Despite the gap in years between them they are remarkably similar in appearance; brown soft curls frame Demetrius’ face, the rest neatly styled behind him, downturned chestnut eyes contrasting his strong profile.

Beatrice Blackbell. Eldest daughter of the Chief Executive Officer of Blackbell Industries, the major military manufacturer. An Imperial Scholar like Demetrius, her academic record is about as flawless as they come, though her behavior in class would suggest otherwise to those unacquainted with her. Unlike her father, she’s a self-proclaimed pacifist who hopes to turn away from her family’s association with war and pursue her own endeavors as opposed to following in her parents’ footsteps. Her younger sister, Becky Blackbell, has also recently been enrolled in Eden Academy, in the same class as Damian as well. She too closely resembles her younger sister, with raven hair styled into a neat bob, the ends fanning outwards. Side-swept bangs are kept out of her face by a simple cherry hairpin as sharp hazel eyes watch him intently.

“Are you done interrupting our conversation then, Beatrice?” Demetrius huffs.

“It depends. If you’re done harassing him, then yes.” She replies, “Isn’t that right, Yor?”

“Hm?” The other girl turns around, “Oh, I, yes, I guess so?”

Beatrice grins, eliciting a surprised squeak from Yor as she loops an arm around her and pulls her in close.

“If Demy here gives you any problems, don’t hesitate to tell us.” She says, “We’re not afraid to keep him in line. Right, Yor?”

“Ah,” Yor nods slowly, “yes.”

“Oh!” Beatrice exclaims suddenly, “Where are my manners? Have you two been introduced yet?”

“We have.” Loid responds, “She gave me a tour of the school grounds earlier this morning.”

“Oh good!” She claps her hands together, “Just so you know, Yor’s a very close friend of mine. Try your best not to upset her, or we’ll have to have a little  _ chat  _ , okay?”

“Understood.” He nods, only slightly disturbed by the dissonance between her cheery disposition and not-so-thinly veiled threat.

“Now students,” Professor Henderson starts, startling the four as they quickly turn their attention back to the front of the classroom, “I understand a new student can be cause for excitement, but class is in session. You can continue your conversation afterwards.”

“Yes, sir.” The four respond in unison, “Sorry, sir.”

Settling into their assigned seats once more, they prepare for the day’s lessons. Loid absentmindedly follows along, eyes surveying the rest of his classmates for the semester, though he’s got a feeling he’s already got his work cut out for him with just the three closest to him alone. The eldest son of the president of the National Unity Party. The eldest daughter of a military corporation. The daughter of two State Security Service officers. And he an intelligence agent, working against them all while right underneath their noses. He could practically feel the headache coming on.

This semester will certainly be interesting at least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special shoutout to the Operation Strix server once again for the lovely original characters I have the pleasure of using for this fic; namely, Beatrice, and our fanon interpretation of Demetrius (since canon Demetrius is MIA and I'm impatient and not waiting for him ♥)


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